


You Make Me Laugh Until I Die. Could You Think Of Any Better Way To Choke?

by hummingrightalong



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Headcanon, M/M, Prank Wars, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 02:49:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14906904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingrightalong/pseuds/hummingrightalong
Summary: What do you get for men who have everything? Increasingly daring and risky pranks of course.





	You Make Me Laugh Until I Die. Could You Think Of Any Better Way To Choke?

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Bastille's "Glory"

The prank war starts out slow, and fun, as a birthday and anniversary tradition.

Their first anniversary, Thomas was one minute late. Victor had spent literally all day in their newly remodeled kitchen, making little treats for the two of them to celebrate. A few hours before midnight, when he knew there was no way his lover would make it back from his business trip in time, he ate them all and waited in bed- somewhere between slightly miffed and satisfied with his revenge.

When the Scotsman returned, taking in what was a deliciously overwhelming scent wafting from their, until now, unused (by either of them at least) kitchen, he smiled and silently congratulated himself. 12:01am. Late, but not so bad. He'd been forgiven it seemed.

However, upon searching for what he expected to be Victor's first, but somehow masterful, attempt at romantic cooking, he could find his lover nowhere. "Fuck," he quietly muttered.

"Not tonight, we won't." The conman replied, leaning against the door of the bedroom. Wrapped in a silk robe and drinking straight out of a bottle of something more expensive than some men's cars, he warned Mr. Abigail; "Do not ever be late for anything this important again. I am worth a thousand times whatever business was so important that you completely missed our first damn anniversary.

"Yep." Thomas sighed in defeat, cleaning up the mess Victor had left himself. Victor was not a man to ignore. As if you could. He was fabulously pissed and the revenge couldn't been worse.

The next near went very nearly the same, except the business man had learned quickly to take Vic's warnings seriously.

"You're late," Strand had started, looking genuinely surprised when Thomas began smirking softly. He was in a fit of giggles by the time he wheezed out the explanation that he'd set every time keeping device back by an entire 24 hours just before he'd left and Victor had probably been so keen on one-upmanship that he hadn't gone out and noticed that he'd been a day behind all week.

Admitting defeat, as the best knows what to do when he's been defeated, he handed over a bottle and a box of fine hand-crafted chocolates and kissed his lover.

***

There was the time they worked a con on a man who owned a chain of fine restaurants. At some point one of them agreed that they'd like their summer home to look like the kitchen at the flagship restaurant. When they took everything it included a remodel of their Parisian home. 

The first thing Strand did with the new anti-griddle was dare Thomas (who was already half in the bag celebrating their success) to stick his tongue to it. 

Thomas stayed there for a good hour while Victor laughed himself weak, laying a few feet away from his lover- who tried and failed to sound serious when his muffled demands for help just fueled Victor's mirthful fit.

"I can't! I'm too weak!"

Finally, in his half drunken state, Victor crawled to the plug in the wall and eventually freed poor Thomas.

"I'll get you for this," The Scot groaned, snatching the bottle from the others' hand.

"I know, I know. But it's so fucking worth it." Supporting himself on the counter, he kissed his boyfriend's cheek. "Happy birthday."

***

Even their marriage had involved stolen identities, nearly getting one another arrested, and a night of debauchery that honestly neither remembered all that well.

But the thing that ended their little game was a milestone of a birthday.

Strand found himself waking in international waters aboard a yacht that he was sure belonged to either himself or his lover, although their suddenly seemed to be quite a problem with his presence aboard.

Helicopters, a few large boats, and a team of men speaking for goddamn Interpol were bombarding Victor. Strand was less than excited at first, even being the master he was at simply talking himself out of trouble, he soon realized that wearing nothing but ladies underwear and some terribly done make-up aboard a ship literally full of pounds upon pounds of cocaine was hard to explain in his state.

After a few days in a detention cell something turned around. All the talking seemed to be getting him somewhere because Victor saw an armed escort when he woke one morning at the end of very nerve-racking week unlock his cell and motion him towards a hallway that ended in a ride home.

Even then it took him half the ride to deduce the best and worst part of this epic joke.

"So how was it darlin'? Forget all the moping you were doing over your advanced age?"

"You're late. And I almost had my own way out of there." Victor started laughing despite himself, dressing in the clothes the 'officer' had brought him. "Thanks for these."

"Technically yes, I was late for yer birthday but since when hasn't it lasted an entire 7 days? I consider this an exceptional expression of my love and devotion to you. Anyway, I was comin for you eventually, you know. Was thinking though, my dear..."

"That we're a bit too old for this? And maybe this time-"

"I'd gone too bloody far? Yeah. Well it was fun while it lasted. How'd I do at the makeup anyway?"

"Terrible, but I still looked amazing." Thomas agreed with a wink in the mirror. "As for this too old shit-"

"One more year. Agreed."


End file.
